


Happy Accidents

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Always did say it was a damn fool way for a body to travel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://velvetmouse.livejournal.com/profile)[**velvetmouse**](http://velvetmouse.livejournal.com/) for the [Alphabet Meme](http://medie.livejournal.com/1666949.html) for the prompt Transporter Accident. This whole story is, actually, inspired by a Voyager scene wherein Chakotay relates this particular Transporter Accident happening to him.

She's not laughing. She _isn't_.

All right, well, she isn't laughing much. Not at all. It's all on the inside, not even a giggle slipping out and Len feels like that should be made clear. It'll probably be relevant later. God knows, Spock'll want a full explanation just as soon as they're back on board. She should probably be dictating the whole damn experience into her tricorder's log, but oh _fuck no_. The last thing either she or Jim wants is this one on record.

Len plans on forgetting it thirty seconds after beam up. Hell, before materialization if she can manage it.

Well, _mostly_. She may, or may not, be planning to pull this little gem out at an opportune moment in the future. What's a little blackmail between friends after all?

"Stop it, Bones."

She looks over, fighting hard to keep her lips from twitching, any hint of a smile and poor Jim's finished. By finished, of course, she means encouraged. Pretty much from go, there's been one universal truth about Jim Kirk.

One hint of encouragement, and by hint she means the merest _suggestion_, and all hell is guaranteed to break out. Bit like Joanna when she was small and learned one of Mama's four-letter words.

Laugh and it's 'fuck, fuck, fuck' all day long.

Course, with Jim, that's _literal_.

"Stop what?" she asks, all innocence and honey. Southern charm on full blast and, possibly, she's overdoing it, but it's _funny_. "I'm just standing here."

"Standing there laughing your ass off," Jim scowls. He grabs for her medkit before she can protest. "Think I need it more than you."

All right, so in this case, it's not so much encouragement as fuel for the fire. This mission's one of _those missions_. The ones that involve Pike being pressured by a few Federation councilors convinced the entirety of the whole fucking Federation hangs on what Jim Kirk does next. Pike never overtly puts any of that pressure on Jim, he's too damn ornery to give in, but Jim feels it all the same.

If this mission goes bad - which, yes, public nudity not likely to end well - then it'll go more than bad for Jim and Pike both. Jim might not care about political fallout for his sake, but the Admiral...

She feels a little sorry for him, truth be told. She's never seen Jim as serious about anything as he's been about commanding the Enterprise. So hellbent on getting it right, she's been hounding every step of the way, worried he'll work himself right onto one of her biobeds. Between forgetting meals and jumping to the rescue of every yeoman and ensign who wanders astray, all the while so goddamn determined to live up to Christopher Pike's faith, Len's got right to be worried.

If you ask her, anyway, and that's the only opinion she's interested in.

"True," she agrees. "Though, as coverage goes, it's not going to do you much good." She realizes, as soon as the words are out, exactly how Jim could take such a comment.

Fortunately, he's too irritated to realize the opportunity. She flicks a glance heavenward with a mental 'thanks' for the crazy luck. She's got to learn to stop putting her goddamn foot in her mouth and swallowing it to the knee. If only because the last thing she needs is Jim Kirk admiring her _flexibility_.

"It's a start." Jim steps back into the alcove, pressing as deeply into the shadows as he can. It's not much coverage either. "When we get back, somebody's getting fired."

She steps in with him, angling her body to, hopefully, shield him from passersby. All they need is Jim getting arrested for indecent exposure. They've no idea what this planet's laws are like. With their luck, it'll be punishable by death. "Jim, you can't fire someone for a transporter malfunction."

Folding her arms, she lets out a little grin. "Always did say it was a damn fool way for a body to travel. Be thankful you ended up without clothes and not without skin." She's heard a few horror stories from the early days of transporter testing. She's not in any hurry to add Jim to the list.

Jim rolls his eyes. "Bones, you're a doctor, you know -- "

"I know a few hundred thousand ways you could die and, yes, Jim, a few of them involve transporters. How much you know about the process, huh? You beamed off the Enterprise in full uniform." She jabs his bare chest with one finger. "You materialized _completely naked_. No shirt, no pants, no goddamn communicator. If the pattern buffer can lose your clothes, I wouldn't be surprised if you turned up missing a few internal organs."

As amusing as this is, or how bad this could go for the mission, she's uncomfortably aware how easily it could have gone _really_ bad.

"Hey," Jim reaches out, touching her chin. "This is supposed to be funny, Bones. Quit worrying huh?" He grins. "I got all my bits," he makes a show of looking down, "all of which are intact and, oh yeah," he throws his arms wide, wiggling his hips, "so's my skin."

Grabbing his arms, Len pushes them down to his sides. "Watch it, will ya? They see you and God only knows what happens." She glances upward, a reflex she's never been able to shake, with a scowl. Where the fuck is that pointy-eared bastard with that fucking uniform?

Probably running his fifty-first check of the system, no doubt. Good lord, if the transporter's still fucked, then put it in a damn shuttle and make up a good story for the natives.

"They're not going to see me," Jim assures. "Our luck's bad, but it's not _that_\--bmmph."

With her hand clamped tight over his lips, Len glares. "You. Do. Not. _Say. That._ Never. S'like saying the Q-word in Sickbay. Just as soon as someone does, the place goes to hell and we're backed up in bodies." She's not superstitious, but she's not stupid either. A woman just doesn't tempt fate. "If I end up slow-cooking in some pot somewhere, James T. Kirk, I'm blaming you and that mouth of yours."

He grins and rests his hands on her hips. She rolls her eyes in response, but doesn't stop him from tugging her closer. Not even when it pulls her lower body in contact with his, well, naked, okay? There's no way this isn't awkward.

Or a come on.

And even for Jim this one's a little negligent in the subtlety department.

Completely unembarrassed by that fact, he leans against the wall and grins lazily at her. She knows that grin. She's made fun of that grin for years. Watched it get unleashed on countless fellow cadets and officers alike. Seen more than a few tempted by it and, hell, been tempted by it herself.

Oh, _hell_ that grin means trouble.

"I just wanna know one thing, Bones."

She closes her eyes. "You ask what I think you're going to ask, Jim Kirk, and -- "

"How come I'm the naked one?" Tugging at her uniform tunic he slips fingers beneath its edge, brushing the bare skin of her side. "Seriously, Bones, I've seen your legs, if one of us should show up sans pants -- " he sweeps his gaze downward and Len growls in annoyance. She doesn't want to be blushing right now and when he does _that_ she doesn't have a choice. She's hardwired to blush Jim Kirk leers.

And when Jim Kirk leers while his cock tries very hard to introduce itself somewhere interesting?

Len's not sure the blood vessels in her cheeks can handle it.

"_Jim_."

Jim's expression is pure innocence. "Oh, come on, Bones," he drawls. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Sure I can," Len says. Except she'd be lying and she knows it. She's thought about it. Somewhere after the third week of him sharing her room at the Academy she couldn't do anything but. Hell, there were nights she had dreams so damn vivid, she'd wake up reaching for him. Damn near fell out of bed doing it more than once. "Then you'd feel honor bound to prove me wrong and the last thing we need is a debate on my opinion of your dick." She grins. "I'd be too tempted to do a clinical assessment, and lord knows, you'd probably take _that_ the wrong damn way."

He smirks, fingers tightening on her hips. "And if I wanted to play doctor?"

She huffs a breath and shakes her head. "I'd turn you down flat." Leaning forward, she brushes fingertips down his bare chest, listening to him suck in his breath, and says, "Spend every damn day fixing you up. I get you horizontal, last thing I'm gonna wanna do is jab you with a hypo."

To her surprise, his grip on her tightens, pulling her up solid. "All depends," he whispers back.

"On?"

"Where you jab it."

He kisses her then, quick and playfully. No heat behind it, but Len's too astonished to do anything but stare.

He did not...

She shakes herself loose. Of course he did. He's Jim Kirk.

Len tries to pull back, but Jim just doesn't let go. Instead, he turns his head and catches her gaze. His gaze is serious. Unexpectedly so. She bites her lip and, though she wants to, doesn't look away.

"Jim."

She rests her hands on his arms, fingers brushing over his forearms, and waits. Len's thought about sleeping with him, sure, but she's thought about this more. There's always been an undercurrent between them that they don't acknowledge.

Len's always written it off as the typical bullshit. Hormones. Mother Nature's way of fucking up a perfectly good friendship with reproductive urges.

She's always written it off that way, but she's never needed a Betazoid to tell her that she's lying to herself. She's self-aware enough to recognize the familiar fragrance of bullshit. It's there, but she's never done much about it. Neither has Jim. At least, not that she noticed. Jim's world, at least it's always seemed, is divided up into two groups. Fuckable and not. She's always been in the latter.

Supposedly.

Len's beginning to realize that Jim's not the one with the divisions.

She bites her lip again.

"Jim -- "

He smiles. One of his hands drifts up to brush a hair from her eyes. This is stupid. He's completely naked. She's not. They're standing on an alien planet. There are some rather tall, lizard-type people walking the streets just a few corners away.

This is the dead last place she wants to be having this moment. On some level, maybe, she's always thought it would happen. It's Jim. She's been half in love with the man for years. Probably since that moment on the shuttle when he'd nudged her foot with his and told her bawdy jokes to keep her from hurling on the cadet across from her.

"We should -- " Len shuts up as soon as she starts talking. They both start laughing. "Fuck, Jim, this is damn awful timing, even for us."

Jim nods. "It is." His fingers turn slow circles on her sides. "Technically, Bones, it's your timing that's shit. I've _always_ wanted you." He smiles. It's not a smile she's familiar with. Suspects it's not a smile that Jim himself is familiar with. Looking at it, Len lets the warmth of that privilege spread through her. "If I'd known getting naked was all it'd take -- "

She pictures him strutting around their dorm room naked. It's a ridiculous image, but she feels her body respond anyway. "Probably would've worked." With a wry grin, she shrugs. "If you'd caught me after the right exam, maybe."

"Nah," he says with a laugh. "Not really. You're too stubborn for that." He raises a hand, cupping the back of her neck. "Just the way I love you."

Len goes utterly still. That's not a word Jim uses lightly. She's never heard him use it at all. Not like that. Not with a resonance in it that speaks of reverence, power, and a connection that he's not supposed to want.

Her communicator chirps. She ignores it. Jim, however, does not. He reaches down to take it from her with his other hand. The one on her neck doesn't move. Resting gently against her skin, thumb brushing over it rhythmically.

"Kirk here." His eyes stay on her and, at that moment, she feels like _she_ is the naked one. "Spock? I'm still feeling a draft."

"My apologies for the delay, Captain," Spock replies. "There is a uniform awaiting your return. As I am sure you are concerned, we have already extended your regrets to the Chancellor."

"What'd you tell her?"

"That our transporters are as affected by their atmosphere as our shuttlecraft would be. They have agreed to postpone the negotiations until tomorrow. They have offered to join us aboard the Enterprise at that time."

"Sounds good to me," Jim says. His eyes stay fixed on her face. "I've got something more important I need to attended tonight."

Len holds her breath, waiting to see if Spock'll ask. She wouldn't put it past him, but he merely acknowledges Jim's comment and instructs them to prepare for beaming.

Jim lets her go, however reluctantly, and steps back. His hand slides free of her neck, brushing her collarbone and chest as it moves. She shivers and he grins.

"What?" she asks, annoyed with herself for sounding breathless. She's a grown woman, for heaven's sake. She shouldn't be acting like a teenage girl with a crush.

"Just wondering."

"Wondering _what_?"

"When you blush -- " Jim tips his head. She can _feel_ the man's gaze on her skin. She absolutely can. "Is it all over?"

The transporter cuts off her reply.

Good thing too.

If Spock heard her threaten to kill Jim, he'd probably be forced to do something about it. If she has to spend a night in jail instead of, well, in Jim's bed, somebody dies.

And with Spock's blood type so goddamn rare these days, it'd be a waste to spill it all over her nice carpet.


End file.
